


Unwritten Words

by Amethyst_Lightsphere



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Daydreaming, He never did that, Kanda did daydreaming, M/M, OOC there, Only in this fic, Oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:39:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10098998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyst_Lightsphere/pseuds/Amethyst_Lightsphere
Summary: Kanda did not write. Not about Allen. Not at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. Call me Ame or Amy for convenience. It's my first time posting here. I will post fics here a day or two after my [Tumblr](http://amethyst-lightsphere.tumblr.com/). That means if you are a Tumblr user you will get updates of whatever I wrote faster.

Words were not enough to describe Allen correctly. That was the conclusion Kanda had come to long ago.

How could they, because painting Allen by letters would mean writing down an epic tale about death and life, bad and good, horrors and hopes. Not to mention their pinnacle, the ambiguity that mixed and separated everything in one big pot. With Allen as protagonists and Kanda and others as major characters, the thing would have an word count of fucking over millions with half of it was for portraying that their personalities were convoluted at best and down right incomprehensible (or shitty, whatever) at worst. Any attempt at that would surely made the writer go into a coma.

Kanda could tell this, because he had once tried it and after one short paragraph of three sentences he had crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash bin. It wasn’t a surprise that he wrote. Living for some years with men wielding their crafts as literal weapons had rubbed some artisticality into Kanda, namely one scruffy old artist and one blind dark-skinned musician.

What was actually shocking though, was that he had thought writing a good idea. To his defense, Allen had been in a bad spot back then, what with being branded as traitor and having a deranged fucker trying to erase his existence. In worst case scenario where he died, surely the Order would just let Allen forever be a stain in history while the few people who knew him would not be able to clear his name. And Kanda wanted people to remember Allen as who he was, a side dish served along with his regret that fueled his return. Illusions from a life long lost brought by the Second Exorcist Program had taught Kanda a very valuable and painful lesson that memories only weren’t enough. So he turned to the pen, only to discarded it right away.

Thanks to all that were holy on the planet, the worst didn’t happen. Some good things even managed to come out from the mess of a Holy War. That meant no need for a possible embarrassing piece of amateur literature to tell the world that Allen Walker was (mostly) a good person to a fault. It wasn’t patience, as Kanda could muster enough to finish if he wanted to write the damn thing for real. Rather, it was his ability. Having some creativities from a life surrounded by artistic people wasn’t equal to having enough skill to make something of decent quality. His confidende was in his prowess with a sword, not fucking pen and papers.

Yet sometimes, Kanda couldn’t help letting his mind wander, unconsciously looking through the well-hidden part of his dictionary for words that rang with ‘Allen Walker’ when he looked at said person like this moment. They were travelling together now, out of the companionship forged in darker time and more. That had given Kanda an ample amount of opportunities to observe Allen. And what he knew of this post-war Allen reinforced that yes, words were no good to tell about someone like him every time he did this. But habits were a force to reckon with, and this mundane contemplation was one, making Kanda walk a full circle to same conclusion time and again.

“You’re up.“ Allen’s sudden voice cut through Kanda’s thought, snapping him back to reality. He looked at him with lidded eyes from his position on the bed, clearly been half-awaked at some point during Kanda’s musing.

“Obviously.“ Kanda rolled his eyes as he spoke. Half-awaked or no, pointing out apparent things made anyone look brain-dead.

“Come back here. I’m cold.“ He patted the spot next to him wth one hand, the other slightly lifted the thick blanket. An invitation.

Not to be told twice, Kanda left his spot by the window, sliding in next to the warm body on the bed. Allen shivered lightly from the feeling of cold coming from him, then stilled as warmth quickly enveloped them both. He pulled Kanda closer to snuggle, his lips pressed against Kanda’s own in a short chaste kiss before he went back to sleep once more. 

Kanda too allowed himself to relax and slumber, after he had chased away all remnants of previous thoughts about words and writing and such from his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Despite all he said about not having adequate skill, Kanda is certainly well-versed in exaggeration, in case you notice.


End file.
